The Fire Within
by Tom's GG
Summary: Booth, a bar, single malt, and a visit from a friend. And, in my opinion a very lonely heart and libido lately. Rated T for safty purposes - Intimation Only.


**Title:** Fire Within  
**Author: Tom's gg**  
**Characters:** Booth / other  
**Rating:** T - Strictly Intimation *wink wink*  
**Spoilers: **vague, random references made to events from CMitML, and FitI

_**I do not own these characters- that distinction belongs to FOX. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement is intended. **_

_**XXXXXXXXXX**_

Booth didn't need to say anything. He simply pointed to his glass, and two fingers of scotch appeared like magic. _Magic… yeah, Sid the magic man. He takes all the pain away._ Booth laughed quietly to himself as he raised the glass in salute to his favorite bartender.

"Is this seat taken?"

The voice was definitely familiar. Booth indicated the seat was available with a wave of his hand. He never even bothered to look up at the individual.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked the newcomer. _Why the hell not. Beats drinking alone_.

"Scotch please. On the rocks." She spoke directly to Sid who gave a curt nod before reaching for a glass; the bottle still in his hand.

_Booth couldn't help but wonder if that was her usual drink, or if she was somehow trying to impress him. _When he finally turned, he saw the smooth expanse of skin of an upper arm and a cascade of blonde waves. His eyes wondered to the face and he was immediately struck by the penetrating blue eyes.

_How many times had he become lost in deep blue just like that? How often had he wanted to drown in it? _

Booth laughed again as he raised his glass to her. "Salahmatie"

"Salahmatie." She parroted.

"You speak Farsi?" Her hair moved across her shoulder as she lowered her glass to the bar.

"I've been here and there." Booth replied casually. "You pick things up."

He had no interest in taking a stroll down war-story lane with the lovely … _What was her first name?_

"I see you got the cast off."

_Small talk. Yes. _That was much safer. That was right up his alley tonight.

Booth flexed his hand. "Fit as a fiddle. That's why I'm here, celebrating getting my drinking hand back.

Right Sid?"

Sid eyed Booth casually. "Riiight."

Sid tipped his head to Booth's drinking partner and walked to the other end of the bar to pour more drinks. He continued to watch the couple through his peripheral vision. Booth had actually been in quite a bit lately, Sid mused, though not with the good doctor. Now that he stopped to think about it, he hadn't seen the doc in several months. Not since Booth's kid brother had come to town.

Well at least he wouldn't need to worry about stuffing Seeley into a cab tonight. This one was definitely picking up what he was putting down.

"… so we ended up in a face-off, guns drawn. Turned out they were DEA, and we'd accidentally triggered their trap while trying to reach our target.

I can't tell you the amount of paperwork on that one."

She was nervous, babbling. She thought talking shop was the way to keep him engaged. Booth let out another laugh and shook his head. She couldn't be further off target if she was trying to hit a mosquito with Benelli 12-gauge. Of course, she took his laugh as a sign of encouragement and continued with only the slightest hesitation.

Not for the first time, Booth noticed the resemblance between the FBI Agent and his ex. She was definitely an attractive woman. Booth tilted his head slightly as he truly studied her. He wondered what she was afraid of. Was she afraid he'd say no… or was she more afraid he'd say yes?

"You look different Agent Perrota." He interrupted her.

"Peyton," she corrected.

"I know."

She smiled and nervously smoothed a stray hair behind her ear.

"Well… I was out with friends," she replied, indicating a table off in the corner somewhere. Booth didn't bother to look.

"I don't usually wear this type of thing to work."

Booth took in the low cut blue top. It brought out the azuline color of her eyes and left very little of her _assets_ to the imagination. His gaze slid down to the low cut jeans that pulled tightly across her thighs and didn't quite meet her top in the back, exposing a ribbon of smooth white flesh. _Was that ink he saw peaking out? _

"Yeah… I don't usually wear this to work either," Booth winked.

Peyton was pretty sure she'd seen that exact _Killers_ t-shirt several times, and she knew she'd seen that _'cocky' _belt buckle before, but she laughed at his joke anyway.

Booth didn't think he could take another minute of this game. He was tired of playing games.

Why did it have to be so complicated? Why couldn't people just be honest? You like someone… you tell them. They like you back and your in business, if not… you move on.

But that wasn't the way things worked, was it? There were strings. There were always strings. Strings that sometimes got pulled so tight you'd swear they had to snap… _it was impossible that they didn't snap._

Then along came someone who pulled on one of those strings, and suddenly everything was upside down and your heart was being pulled out of your chest.

A Stephen Stills song flashed through Booth's mind -

_And if you can't be with the one you love honey  
Love the one you're with, love the one you're with.  
Don't be angry - don't be sad  
Don't sit crying over good times you've had  
There's a girl right next to you  
And she's just waiting for something to do_

Booth turned to her. His eyes narrowed to mere slits, filling with an almost feral quality that left no doubt as to his intent. "Agent Per- Peyton… what do you think about getting out of here?"


End file.
